When Dreams Change
by asteristar
Summary: For three years now, he has dreamed one dream. Just the same dream, playing on loop over and over again. GSR


When Dreams Change

A/N: My second CSI fic, and GSR all the way. I'm actually kind of proud of this one, so be nice, please!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the words and the order they're in.

* * *

For three years now, he has dreamed one dream.

Just the same dream, playing on loop over and over again. When he gets home from his shift and he lies down to rest, as soon as his eyelids close, the same image appears.

He is standing on the porch of a light gray house. It is winter. There is snow. That is his first sign that this is not reality. He is on the East Coast, and he knows this with the utter certainty attained only in dreams.

There are two dark-haired children playing in the yard. An older boy, maybe nine, and a little girl around six. They are facing away from him, helping each other build a snowman. He knows they are siblings, just as he somehow knows they are his own children. He tries to move, to call out to them, but he cannot. He has been rendered mute and totally paralyzed. He stands there frozen in the cold, watching the children play, waiting for something.

Suddenly he feels something warm drape over his shoulders, a plaid blanket that immediately lessens the chill. He can tell that there is someone beside him, a woman who feels familiar in a vague way. And he wishes he could turn around, wishes he could see her, but he cannot. So he stands, waiting, waiting to wake up.

For six years, he has dreamed one dream. Tonight it changes.

There is still the same porch. Still the same children. Still the same snow. And still the same woman. Every night he has tried to speak, tried to move. Every night he has failed. But tonight he has a new dream.

She drapes the blanket over his shoulders, as he expects. And when he tries to open his mouth, when he tries to speak, he succeeds.

"Why can't I see you?" he asks, and the woman laughs next to him.

"Because you're not looking at me," she answers, her voice familiar in the same hazy way that everything else about her is.

"Well, why can't I look at you?"

"You're not ready yet," she replies enigmatically.

"How do you know whether or not I'm ready?" he asks, and she laughs again.

"I'm part of your subconcious. I know everything about you."

"When will I be ready?" he asks, desperately hoping that she will give him a definate answer, but no such luck.

"I only know what's in your head," she sighs, "And you're not a fortune teller."

He wakes up laughing.

After that, the dream returns to normal. And stays that way.

For nine years, he has dreamed one dream. Tonight it ends.

He is still standing on the porch, as he has done every time he falls asleep for the past nine years. There is still snow. There are still the same two children, building the same snowman.

When the young boy turns around and waves at him, that is his first clue that this dream will be different. The boy has blue eyes like his own, and dark hair that reminds him of the way his used to be, before it began to fade to gray.

The boy turns back to the snowman, and he waits with anticipation for the next change. The woman comes up to drape the blanket over his shoulders, as she has always done. They stand together in silence, as they have always done.

And then the little girl turns around.

He is drowning suddenly, falling into pools of liquid chocolate. And he knows who the woman is.

Slowly, he turns to the left, and she is there, watching the two children with a loving smile on her face. He studies her profile for a few moments, and her smile widens when she realizes he is watching her.

"Sara?" he asks quietly, and she looks over at him, brown eyes shining with joy.

"Yeah, Griss?"

"Are they ours?" He is referring to the two adorable children playing in the yard.

"Yes," she says, smiling. "Michael and Isabella."

"I like those names."

They are silent for a few moments, during which he sees her shivering. Tentatively, he reaches over and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, and she smiles up at him gratefully. It is then that he notices the gold band on her left-hand ring finger. He does not have to look to know that there is an identical one on his own hand.

"I didn't think I'd dream this tonight," he muses, and she presses herself closer to him.

"Why?"

"The lab blew up today."

"I know. I'm in your head, remember?"

"Right." He pauses. "I guess I just thought I'd have a nightmare, or something."

"No nightmare. Just me."

"Will I dream this again?" he asks, and he is not sure whether he will be glad if she says yes.

"Sometimes," she answers. "I'll be here if you need me. Awake or dreaming. All you have to do is talk to me."

"I'll try. But I get scared sometimes."

"I know," she sighs.

Another pause. He is comfortable keeping his arm around her waist, and she rests her head on his shoulder.

"Could this ever happen for us, Sara?"

"What, the whole East Coast-kids-playing-in-the-snow thing?"

"Yeah."

"You're dreaming it, aren't you? And isn't there some quote somewhere about dreams becoming reality?"

"Probably."

"Then yes, this could happen for us. We just have to stop being afraid."

He wakes up smiling.

Every day he thinks about her. Every day that he thinks about it, every day that he thinks about Sara and the dream children, he smiles, and grows more impatient. He grows tired of waiting. And finally, three years later, his patience runs out.

After twelve years, his dream finally changes. After twelve years, his dream finally becomes a reality.

**el fin**


End file.
